


Butt-dialed Blackout

by Igraine_smiley



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Butt Dialing, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Inspired by Real Events, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Igraine_smiley/pseuds/Igraine_smiley
Summary: There was a huge blackout in Argentina. This is the reason why.OrMycroft apaga toda la red eléctrica de Argentina  mientras apretaba con Lestrade. Mycroooft cortaste todaa la loooooz!!!!





	Butt-dialed Blackout

They were exactly 20 minutes before the blackout that engulfed Argentina on Father's day of 2019. Only the last province near the end of the world kept its lights on. The rest of the country'd have to endure up to 10 hours of electric shortage; no internet, no water, no TV, phone's batteries were slowly dying down making people descend into a boredom induced madness.

Conspiracy theories popped up fairly quickly. Some said it was a cyber attack perpetrated by the US or Russia. The most popular theory proposed that those world powers were conducting some sort of messed up social experiment. Others believed that the feminists tried to boycott father's day because, fuck the patriarchy that's why. The more creative citizens blamed aliens or a nuclear explosion for the event. The fact that everyone was watching HBO'S Chernobyl didn't help at all. It was a bizarre situation but the reason behind it was quite mundane. It all started in a fancy house in Belgravia.

Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector for Scotland Yard, knew that working with Sherlock Holmes had shaved off at least 10 years off his lifespan but because of him he had met the love of his life. So he couldn't complain. His dearest was a workaholic politician that was currently typing furiously on his phone while Greg's head rested on his lap. 

"Mycroft? Can't you take a break?" Greg asked looking up from the telly.

"I'm afraid I can't" he replied. His eyes were going to one side to the other of the screen in a repetitive motion "Brexit is the worst thing that happened to me since Sherlock tried taxidermy"

"I don't want any details" Greg switched channels not really stopping for more than 10 seconds. A baking show, news, politicians shouting, some countryside show, was that David Tennant? He tried to pay attention to the telly but his mind was in a very specific place. A hot place. Following his heart he grabbed onto Mycroft obscenely expensive shirt and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss.

"Really, Gregory?" He reproached raising an eyebrow above his glasses' frame.

"Come, Myc! It's Sunday!" He exclaimed staring lovingly into Mycroft's pale eyes "You need a break" and _I need you_ he thought.

"And what are you proposing?" Mycroft smirked taking off his reading glasses. He caressed Gregory's cheek with his fingertips

"Oh! Let me show you!" Greg got up and kissed Mycroft slowly. He felt his partner smile against his lips. Greg slid a hand around the nape of Mycroft's neck, getting him even closer. He brushed his lips against Mycroft neck trailing down butterfly kisses to his collarbone. He was unbuttoning his vest when he heard a loud thud.

"Bugger!" Mycroft pulled away from him to look around the carpet.

"What?" Greg asked with a husky voice.

"My phone" he frowned. That damn thing! In seconds they were both looking for the device in the surrounding area of the sofa when Greg spotted it under the coffee table.

"I'll get it" he offered.

With the mobile phone **on** the table this time, they continued their less than innocent activities. Mycroft hands were tangled in Greg's silver hair while he had the politician pinned and panting against the sofa. This was the Sunday morning Greg had in mind but then the damn phone started to ring uncontrollably. They quickly realised the beeping and buzzing wasn't stoping anytime soon. Cockblocked by fucking Brexit, great.

"Myc, turn it off before I throw it out the window" he groaned. 

"You won't do such a thing" Mycroft said as he wiggled his way from beneath Greg's body. The detective rolled his eyes. He was about to make an snarky comment about Mycroft addiction to work and power but his words vanished when he saw the politician going pale. Mycroft was looking at his beloved phone with eyes big as saucers.

"Myc?" Greg got closer to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder " What happened? Is Sherlock ok? Rosie?"

"We… I… I might have shut down Argentina's electric system"

"What?" Greg exclaimed. The most concerning part of the whole ordeal was the he wasn't even surprised "All of it?" Mycroft nodded "With your mobile phone?... How?... Wait! Wait! I definitely don't want to know. Can you do anything about it?"

"Not really" the politician was typing at the speed of light with his eyes fixed on the screen.

"Well, it's useless to cry over spilled milk" Greg said sliding a hand down his lover's back. He felt Mycroft shiver under his touch.

"You are a horrible man, Gregory Lestrade" Mycroft scolded him but left the mobile phone on the coffee table with a faint smile on his lips.

"Yet, you still love me" Greg grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. 

"I do" He kissed him again "I love you"

"You know?" Greg purred "The fact that you can butt-dial a country into oblivion is actually pretty hot"


End file.
